


One and Only Friend

by Samiel



Category: Fate Babylonia, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/strange fake, fate - Fandom
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Drama, Drama & Romance, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Two dumb idiots piss off the gods, it's gay even if it's clay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samiel/pseuds/Samiel
Summary: Gilgamesh paused, drink hovering against his lips.“There was a hunter. He was quite the nuisance, complaining loudly of a primordial beast destroying his traps and freeing the animals caught within them. The hunter begged and pleaded for his king to aid him in his plight with this beast. After all, a hunter cannot make a livelihood without their catch. In his benevolent wisdom, the king ordered the hunter to take a temple prostitute with him to this primordial being, that she may seduce the creature, civilize it, thereby causing the animals who they once aided to flee from their presence.”“Knowing this, Enkidu, would you be angry with the one who gave that order?”A line creased between their brows. Enkidu’s eyes fell to their cup, but troubled as they seemed to be with this new information, their smile never wavered. After thinking it over thoroughly, they answered, “No, because I obtained a friend in exchange.”Warmth apart from the wine settling in his stomach swelled within Gilgamesh’s chest, along with something else. Something disdainful.Guilt.--A partial retelling of the Epic of Gilgamesh, with some of the Fate lore included and a gratuitous amount of Gilkidu.
Relationships: Enkidu | False Lancer/Gilgamesh | Archer, Enkidu | False Lancer/Gilgamesh | Caster
Comments: 27
Kudos: 80





	1. Wedge and Chain

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a way for me to put Enkidu's backstory into words for RP purposes, and then snowballed into a partial retelling of the Epic of Gilgamesh with some of the Fate lore included and a gratuitous amount of Gilkidu. For anyone interested, I'm drawing on inspiration from Stephen Mitchell's version of Gilgamesh (though I recently picked up the Penguin Classics version by Andrew George). Also I've seen the anime for Fate/Zero and Fate Grand Order Babylonia, but only have limited knowledge of Fate Strange Fake as the manga is still being published and translated. With those things in mind, this is not meant to be an accurate retelling by any means and will definitely make room for some creative license. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! :D

Thunder cracked across the cloudless night sky over Mesopotamia. Amidst the cliffs and rocky terrain of the desert, two figures collided in the darkness. Illuminated by flashes of lightning springing forth from the ground and pools of gold shimmering like sunlight in the air, stars watching overhead, the two clashed again and again, until the very earth trembled, rattling grains of sand and rock alike all the way to the heart of Uruk miles away where the citizens huddled together behind its great walls, waiting with bated breath for the victor’s return.

Enkidu slammed their palm into the dirt, calling upon the last vestiges of their power to shape the earth into chains tipped with blades. Energy rippled around them, bursting in streams of blue electricity that whipped their long green hair wildly. The man opposing them met each chain they generated with finely crafted swords pulled from the pools of light hovering behind him, each blade unique in its design and splendor. Metal against metal, sparks flew with every grating blow, the noise echoing off the nearby cliffs while clouds of dust obscured Enkidu’s view, leaving their opponent just as blinded. 

One final push forward, one final charge. Their bare feet kicked off the ground, right arm raised and glowing with the same blue energy as before, reinforcing their flesh to withstand a blade. 

The dust cleared just as another sword materialized in the golden light, matching the man’s golden hair and armor, and swinging in a wide arc towards Enkidu. More sparks as their reinforced arm blocked the blade, straining against the weapon, the two foes equally matched. The metal of his sword screeched in protest, but the man only pressed on against them. Even as the blade threatened to give way and Enkidu could feel their own energy reserves depleting, laughter scraped the back of his throat until it echoed into the distance. In the fleeting light of clashing sparks and electric blue energy, Enkidu could see his face, sharp and clear. Ruby red eyes, pupils narrowed to slits and focused entirely on them, glinting in the darkness along with his wide grin. 

The same grin Enkidu felt mirrored in their own expression. Any anger they had held for him dissipated long ago, giving way to the sheer, unadulterated thrill that came with fighting an equal.

Pushed beyond its limits, the sword in his hands shattered just as the blade started to dig into Enkidu’s forearm. Utilizing the momentum of the movement, his hand clamped down on their wrist, wringing it up and away, and thrust his full weight upon their frame until they toppled backwards, their opponent on top.

Defeated, Enkidu’s head flopped against the earth, gazing up at the king of Uruk. A curtain of stars hung behind the splendor of him, his silhouette a wedge dividing the heavens. The wonderful, terrible King Gilgamesh. 

Back flat against the ground and unforgiving stone digging into Enkidu’s spine, they grinned at the form pinning them down. Gilgamesh’s right knee pressed firmly into their thigh, hands clamped like shackles against their wrists. The brilliant pools of golden light shining behind Gilgamesh haloed him in the sharp contrast of the night sky against the Gates of Babylon, from which the king withdrew the weapons from his treasury. Although a dozen lit the darkness behind him, no more arms appeared at his disposal. Enkidu likewise had no energy left to call upon the Chains of Heaven. What few embers of brute strength remained were rationed in the tangle of limbs pinning them down.

Enkidu laughed, and it felt good to do so despite the bruising ache in their body, the rise and fall of their chest brushed the fabric of their robe lightly against Gilgamesh’s bared chest. Their laughter puffed in the chilly air, fleeting wisps in the desert night. The match was unquestionably Gilgamesh’s, though rather than weighing Enkidu down, the loss left them feeling lighter. A burden lifted from their shoulders.

“Only a fool would dare challenge me, mongrel, let alone have the audacity to stand before me and deny my right as king. No mortal could ever come close to besting me. Are you really human, or are you some manner of god?”

“Neither. Merely a tool of the gods created from clay to kill you. The ‘Chains of Heaven’ they called me, but my name is Enkidu.” The smile never left their face and that only seemed to sharpen the teeth bared in Gilgamesh’s grin.

“I see. So the rumors of a beast that can rival me in strength were not wholly baseless? Still, when I heard of a wild beastman entering my city, I expected someone with horns sprouting from their head or covered in hair from head to toe.” 

Wrists secured and unable to indulge the urge to check for bumps on their own head, Enkidu lightly blew strands of hair out of their face. Well, one of those had been true.

Gilgamesh cocked his head to the side, eyes tracing the lines of their features from their face, along their jaw, and lingered at the hollow of their neck.

Smug and contemplating, Gilgamesh’s smile curled in amusement. “And what of now? Do you still intend to kill me for the gods?”

With a shake of their head, Enkidu closed their eyes. “No. I am a tool that failed its task. It would be pointless to try again. Besides--” They opened their eyes and met his gaze, passive green against aggressive red. “--I enjoyed the fight with you.”

“Did you now? How amusing. No other save you has ever defied me and possessed the strength to actually carry out your challenge.” Gilgamesh leaned closer, a dangerous edge to his voice as he continued, “However, you have some nerve, emptying my treasury and reducing me to hand-to-hand combat like some lowly cur.”

“Do you make a habit of throwing your treasures at opponents?” Enkidu tilted their head, curious. The shattered remnants of the weapons Gilgamesh had flung at them earlier lay scattered and ruined across the desert floor.

“Fool,” Gilgamesh barked indignantly with the remaining edge of his anger. “Squandering wealth is the true mark of the civilized! A king may use his treasures however he sees fit. Even if it means using them as projectiles during a fight.”

“Oh, I see.” They accepted his reasoning with childlike ease, unperturbed that the hold on them had not lessened while they conversed. “Still seems a waste of energy.”

“You insult me even now?” The fingers at their wrists tightened, the full weight of Gilgamesh digging into their skin and ground into their thigh. “Are you blind to your own defeat?”

Enkidu winced a little but shook their head. They smiled up at him. “No, I concede to you, King Gilgamesh. You are unmatched in strength and fearlessness. Even I cannot doubt your right to rule.”

The grip on their wrists slackened. Gilgamesh pulled back, surprise shrouded in the shadow cast by the light of Babylon’s Gates, slowly blinking out one by one ‘til the only lights remaining were the stars themselves. Finally, he chuckled as he stood, dusting off the dirt and grit from the fight. “Flattery now? I will allow you that indulgence. Be grateful I do not claim more from your lips.”

“I would not be opposed.” Sitting up, Enkidu rubbed their bruised wrists gingerly. 

He threw his head back and laughed. “You amuse me, Enkidu. Consider yourself fortunate. But flattery will not refill my treasure house. How will you compensate me?”

They stood nimbly, just a few inches shy of him. “I cannot replace what you lost, but I could alter my shape and transform into a treasure, if that will satisfy you. Oh, but I would be just one, though. Would you prefer a cup or an axe? Perhaps a jewel?”

“PffhaHAHAHA! You? My treasure? For not being a fool, you certainly make me laugh until my sides hurt, though you did not spare my ribs from your blows earlier. Very well. Come, my ‘treasure.’ We shall return to Uruk and you will aid me in replenishing what was lost.”

Dawn lightened the sky to lavender and pale blue by the time the pair returned. Gilgamesh guided Enkidu by the hand as the two passed beneath the gated archway in the city’s great walls. Enkidu took the opportunity to examine the gate fully; now that there was no hurry and no challenge to issue, they could appreciate the architecture. The main gate stood out against the remainder of the wall, brilliantly blue compared to the tan brick on either side and inlaid with intricate designs and the images of dragons, bulls, and lions. 

Enkidu’s step faltered enough that Gilgamesh glanced sharply over his shoulder at the delay, but instead of snapping at them, he grinned, chest swelling with pride. “If you are so taken by a _gate_ of my city, I look forward to your awestruck expression upon seeing the ziggurat. Come, there will be time enough later to look upon my city in detail.”

“Is that--?”

“It’s King Gilgamesh!”

“Our king has returned!”

“But wait, isn’t that…?”

Despite the early hours of the morning, the main thoroughfare was already bustling with shopkeepers opening stalls, citizens running early morning errands, and tired onlookers from the previous night, all attention turning to Gilgamesh and Enkidu as the unlikely pair walked down the street. Throngs of people, young and old, pressed together for a look, some peering over the heads of others. Gilgamesh had released Enkidu’s hand the moment the two were noticed, now crossing his arms and holding his head high, back straight and tall. All were wise enough to part for Gilgamesh as he strode by, but the bolder ones pressed closer to Enkidu, admiring them with wonder.

Curious, a few people let their fingers skim through the long curtain of mussed green hair trailing behind Enkidu, or catch on the fabric of their robe, dirtied and fraying from the fight. The peoples' intrigue made it difficult to follow Gilgamesh without forcibly pushing citizens aside and as a result Enkidu slowed further, until people swarmed around on all sides.

Much to the king’s apparent ire.

“ _Enough_! Let him pass and gaze upon him from afar. Or do my subjects have such an abundance of time that they can dawdle in the streets without consequence,” Gilgamesh snapped, clear and loud as a whip. 

Like herded animals, the citizens stepped back from Enkidu, parting so they may continue down the street. Gilgamesh scowled where he stood and Enkidu padded after the king. Among the sea of commonfolk, Gilgamesh was a radiant beacon, the gold and lapis lazuli of his adornments and armor glinting while the prominent red tattoos displayed on his back charted the course forward. Even with so many others around them, Enkidu would never lose sight of the king. The rest of the walk continued unimpeded.

Uruk was unlike anything Enkidu had ever seen. When they first entered the city, night had already fallen, shrouding most of its features, but now as the sun climbed higher behind them, the city shined in its full splendor. Enkidu’s curiosity caused them to pause several more times, their attention catching on the various trinkets and food being sold in the markets. Gilgamesh snapped and chided them with each stop, annoyed by the delay but grinning at their fascination. Cramped and bustling with human lives, they had never truly experienced civilization before now.

“Really, are you so _deprived_ you would stoop to eating in the markets like a commoner when there is much finer fare waiting for us in my palace?” The impatient edge of the king’s voice caused the baker to flinch and wring his hands on the simple apron tied around his waist.

Enkidu continued eyeing the loaves of bread with interest, comparing the size and golden color hungrily until, finally fed up, Gilgamesh took their hand and forcibly tugged them away.

“I do not know what swill you have eaten in the past to think that stall appealing, but from now on you will only be partaking in the finest of breads and ale. Now come. I tire of your dawdling, Enkidu.”

“But it smelled quite good,” Enkidu protested mildly, yanked into step with Gilgamesh until they walked abreast with him. He did not release their hand.

Gilgamesh scoffed in reply. 

Through the markets, past the stalls and homes and gardens, Enkidu’s head swiveled to see it all, fingers curled in Gilgamesh’s hand. Soldiers stood at attention, elders discussed the coming floods and harvests, temple prostitutes laughed vibrantly, children waved as they ran by--every person had something to do, a role to fill. 

But where did that leave them? What role was this tool meant to fill? They had failed to kill the king like the gods intended, worse yet, after exchanging blows with him, Enkidu lost any desire to destroy Gilgamesh. And the realization did not seem to trouble them whatsoever. 

“King Gilgamesh?”

“Nn?” His red eyes slipped a sideways glance to them before continuing to look ahead.

“What will become of me now?”

“Did you not agree to become my treasure? Do not tell me you intend to take back those words.”

Enkidu blinked, brows furrowed. In the midst of wondering whether Gilgamesh wanted them to transform into a literal treasure here in the street or not, the king threw his head back and laughed.

“You are so amusingly ignorant regarding civilization, Enkidu. Instructing you in the ways of humanity should provide me with some entertainment for the time being, so you will remain with me, until I bid you otherwise.” Gilgamesh raised his chin to the looming structure before them. “I will show you my city, and allow you to marvel at its splendor. But first, we bathe and eat. The king must look his best when walking his streets, and the same applies to those that accompany him.”

Enkidu followed his gaze up, up, and up, following the countless steps leading up to the very heart of Uruk, the towering ziggurat. Seeing it from a distance could not have prepared them for the sheer size of the structure now that they stood at its feet. The wide base was lined with steps and archways creating various paths for the citizens moving to and fro. Statues carved into the stone decorated the outer walls, tan brick layered between painted blue, with palm trees dotting the premises, sprouting up from areas unseen from below. The grand main gate, the great wall surrounding the city--neither compared to the dizzying height of the terraced palace. Enkidu craned their neck until it ached.

Until their arrival in Uruk, Enkidu had only known isolated villages and huts held together with straw and simple clay. Never before had they seen a structure so massive and intricate, the craftsmanship precise as the geometric shapes of the structure. Mouth open and eyes wide, they stared in awe.

Out of the corner of their eye, Gilgamesh beamed at them, arms crossed and radiant with pride. Enkidu felt the warm morning rays of sunlight in that look, pouring over them like anointed oil. With it, the weight of their aching muscles lifted and they felt featherlight, ready to dance away in the next breath of wind. In return, they offered him a smile, gentle and earnest. 

They were glad to have been defeated, glad to be standing here by Gilgamesh’s side.

Was he just as pleased?

If he was the king did not bother showing it, turning away abruptly. Gilgamesh wordlessly began the long climb up the main stairs of the ziggurat, not even bothering to bid they follow him. Even so, Enkidu hurried after him, eagerly following at his heels. 

The main stairs nearly matched the ziggurat’s total height, leveling out just shy of the highest level. Soldiers lined the wide entryway, standing at attention as the king sauntered through, only turning in curiosity to look upon his companion once the king’s back was turned. The morning sun had risen as high as the palace by the time Enkidu and Gilgamesh entered its cool shade, Enkidu blinking in the sudden dimness until their eyes adjusted. The room was wide and open, with three large entryways. One on either side and one in the center, which the two had just passed through. Light poured in from tall windows that stood opposite them, behind the silhouette of a massive high-backed stone chair atop a dais. The throne.

As Enkidu’s eyes adjusted, more of the throne room’s details came to light. Sheer curtains hung in the window, draping behind either side of the throne and blowing gently in the breeze. Large earthenware pots decorated the corners of the chamber with various greenery that Enkidu recognized and admired. Pillars wider than Enkidu’s arms could wrap around stretched from the floor to the room’s high ceiling while murals matching those of Uruk’s main gate adorned the walls on either side of the throne. Even the floor here was polished, inlaid with decorative geometric patterns.

With the king’s arrival, it was as though the final brick had been laid. Citizens that had been milling about anxiously for Gilgamesh’s arrival approached, clamoring about one matter or another. An older man dressed in long robes and carrying a clay tablet stepped forward from the crowd, but no sooner did he open his mouth to speak did Gilgamesh wave them all away dismissively.

“Whatever your trivial matter is, it can wait. For now, prepare a bath for myself and my guest. Though it was a worthy challenge, I will not spend another moment covered in filth from battle. Step aside. And you--” Gilgamesh addressed a line of young women dressed in arbor green, simple sheer veils covering the lower half of their faces in a way that did not obscure their beauty. He pointed to a particular maiden with chestnut hair tied over her slim shoulders. She curtsied in response, awaiting instruction. “See to my guest. A wildman though he may be, I intend to civilize him yet. Ensure he is spotless and worthy to accompany me.” 

A few wary looks were exchanged by nearby citizens at that, seemingly trying to determine if the king was exaggerating or if Enkidu was a potential danger. The young woman Gilgamesh had addressed, however, remained unflappable. 

“Yes, my king.” The woman bowed deeper and then, straightening to face Enkidu, beckoned them over with a polite smile. “Please follow me.”

They hesitated. The thought of becoming adrift from the one person they knew among the sea of unfamiliar faces made them suddenly wary. After a brief glance towards Gilgamesh, whose back remained to them while he spoke with another palace maiden, Enkidu followed the woman down the staircase by the corner of the throne room into the depths of the ziggurat.

Despite the thick clay walls, the labyrinthine structure was surprisingly well lit with painted terracotta cone torches where sunlight could not penetrate, and by large open windows along the outer walls where daylight peeked unimpeded. Through twists and turns and hallways, Enkidu padded behind her until she pulled back a curtain to a room thick with warm steam. Sunlight caught golden and crepuscular in the swirling steam clouds rising near the windows, carved high in the room’s walls to afford privacy. Patterns of polished tiles and a few potted ferns added color to the otherwise simple chamber, the center of which was occupied by a deep basin of water in the floor, the source of the steam.

“Please, go ahead. I will take care of your dirtied clothes.”

Enkidu shrugged the robe over their shoulders and head, the folds of fabric designed for easy removal and simplistic in its elegance. The dirt and bruises from their fight were more evident now against their pale skin in the daylight. Despite the grime covering the tattered robe, Enkidu folded the fraying fabric with care and held it out to the woman. But her focus had slipped downwards, staring below Enkidu’s bare abdomen, before snapping back up to their face, cheeks a flustered red. 

“Ah! Please forgive me for staring.”

Enkidu brushed it off with ease and a smile. “I am not bothered by it. I am not human, after all.”

“Even so, I apologize.” She took Enkidu’s robe in both hands and bowed, one hand sweeping over to the bath. “Please, make use of the tub, and allow me to discard your old clothes while you wash.”

“Discard--? Wait! Don’t!” Their hand extended as though to take the fabric back and the woman backed away, startled by the reaction. “Those robes were… given to me. I don’t wish to throw away that kindness.”

She hesitated, but after a moment, wrapped her arms delicately around the dirtied cloth as though cradling a child. She nodded in understanding. “Very well. Then, I will wash them and mend them to the best of my ability. You have my word.”

Exhaling the breath they had been holding, Enkidu said, “Thank you, um... miss...”

“Siduri.” She bowed again, her earrings jingly softly from the movement and with a smile that could not be dimmed by her sheer veil. “And a person of my rank does not have a title. So please, just Siduri is fine. What is the name of my king’s esteemed guest?”

“Enkidu,” their answer was as simple as the clothes in Siduri’s arms. 

The echoes of the introduction condensed against the small room’s walls, an unobtrusive and warm silence settling between the two. Siduri again gestured to the tub, encouraging them to proceed. Enkidu’s attention flickered from the water, to the variety of bottles lining a shelf, to the smaller stack of coarse cloth for scrubbing. Her hand guided them to the water’s edge and Enkidu crouched like a wary calf before slowly submerging one foot into the hot water with a hiss, then the other.

Rather than excuse herself, Siduri kept a polite distance behind them. Her footfalls were surprisingly muted and sure against the damp floor, gliding past to the shelf before replacing Enkidu’s robes in her arms with a bottle and washing cloth. Leaning over the edge until tangles of their green hair spilled into the tub, Enkidu watched curiously. She moved with a serene grace, every movement efficient and practiced. 

“I will admit I am a little surprised to hear such a request, after seeing you return with our king.” Setting the bottle down, Siduri knelt beside them, guiding their ankle nearer and submerging the cloth in a fluid motion that hardly rippled the water’s surface. This close, Enkidu caught the faint scent of cedar mixing in with the floral aroma from the bottle. Eyes focused entirely on her task to wash the dirt caked onto the bottom of their feet, she asked, “Do you mind if I ask more about you?”

Between the steam and the gentle scrubbing against their feet, tension seeped away into the warm water. Enkidu’s shoulders slouched forward and their eyes dropped closed. They exhaled. “Of course not.”

“Is it true you came from the wilds? Have you never been to a human city before?”

They hummed an affirmative, dissolving again into an easy silence while Siduri scrubbed one foot and then the other, leaving their flesh pink and clean. When she instructed them into the bath this time, Enkidu eased themself into the water up to their chin, inhaling the thick steam and soaking up the heat in their sore muscles. After a pause and a few blown bubbles, Enkidu asked, “Are you from Uruk, Siduri?”

She shook her head. “No, not originally. I’m from… well, it’s quite far from here. It’s a long and difficult journey for most humans.”

Accepting the cloth from her and scrubbing the dirt from their limbs and face, Enkidu’s voice came out muffled between their hands. “I see. There was a time when I roamed great distances, migrating with the animals, although humans seem to travel for different reasons other than food. Did something draw you to this city?”

Rather than answer immediately, Siduri contemplated the swirls of steam drifting out the window. “What draws anyone to the great, walled city of Uruk? If there was a reason, I would have to say it was King Gilgamesh.”

They blinked, puzzled by that response and leaned back against the edge of the tub to look up at Siduri. “As I journeyed here, I often heard people speak of their suffering because of the king. Did that not deter you?”

Siduri scooped water onto Enkidu’s head, somehow chastising and playful all at once, though she was careful to avoid their eyes. “He was not always this way. When His Majesty was young, he was a very humble and thoughtful young boy. And he was very fond of his people.”

Her gaze became distant, focusing on the blank far wall. Enkidu asked, “What changed?”

The fine line of her brows furrowed together in thought, pondering how best to answer. She motioned that they submerge their head, and when they obeyed, Enkidu felt Siduri massaging their scalp, working out the dirt and grime from their hair. Wrapped in the warmth of the bath, the soothing sensation brought a not unwelcome lull in the conversation. Enkidu peeked the top half of their head out of the water, sighing contented bubbles. The sweet smell from the bottle clung to their hair and skin, floral and pleasant.

“I believe… no one could challenge the king, and so he grew bored. His subjects are mere playthings for his amusement.”

Enkidu watched Siduri wash their hair in the rippling reflection of the bathwater. “Yet you seem to respect him a great deal. Shamhat was the same way, calling him a tyrant in one breath only to laud him in the next.”

Siduri laughed. “And here you are, a guest in his palace after a fight so destructive the city trembled.” She smiled. “I respect His Majesty a great deal. Despite the terrible things he has done as king, I truly believe that if he is shown the path, he will become one of the greatest kings of all time.”

“Siduri?” 

A gentle voice carried timidly across the room and caused the pair to turn towards the entrance. Another palace maiden, dressed in similar garb and colors to Siduri, peeked past the curtain providing a modicum of privacy for the bath and glanced around the room until she spotted Siduri.

“What is it?” Siduri stood, drying and folding her hands neatly before her.

“His majesty is, well…” The maiden faltered as she glanced at Enkidu, as though worried what she was going to say might offend them. Siduri waved that concern away, urging the other to continue. “He’s growing impatient. Waiting on his guest, I mean.”

Siduri exhaled, a hint of exasperation in the draw of her shoulders but otherwise seemingly unsurprised.

“How rude of me.” Enkidu chuckled and climbed out of the bath, causing the palace maiden to squeak and frantically cover her eyes. Trails of water droplets pattered on the stone floor behind them, their hair a heavy and dripping curtain as Enkidu padded to exit the room, completely unperturbed by the maiden’s reaction. “I did not intend to cause anyone distress with my delay.” 

“W-wait, Enkidu! At least dry yourself off first--!” Siduri scrambled to grab a towel and follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this household we support and love Siduri.
> 
> Many thanks to darkangelmya and Lunaurelle for beta reading and cheering me on!
> 
> Tags will be added as more chapters are finished. 
> 
> Oh, and Gilgamesh referring to Enkidu as 'he' is intentional in this chapter.


	2. All Things

Elsewhere in the ziggurat, the mid-morning sun’s light reached one of the chambers near the apex of the palace, lazily pouring through the wide windows overlooking Uruk. This particular area did not possess the high ceiling nor demand the same stringent authority as the throne room, but afforded a more personable space where the king could dictate private affairs rather than those of the state. The chamber was open to allow for the comings and goings of servants at his behest. A mural of a lion decorated the entirety of the inner wall while large, plush pillows in rich golds and deep reds arranged near the rear window accommodated seating for the king and any of his guests, though he was far too restless to make use of them currently. Instead Gilgamesh stood by a table laden with food and drink, having shed the radiant splendor of his golden armor in exchange for robes of pristine white and dark blues trimmed with gold, a vibrant red sash draped over his shoulder and across his chest to tie at his opposite hip. A wide selection of golden accessories engraved or set with jewels adorned his neck, ears, wrists, and arms, catching the light as he paced.

Gilgamesh plucked a grape from its stem before plopping it in his mouth, sweet with the ideal amount of tartness, though it did nothing to remedy the souring expression on his face for every moment he was made to wait. Enkidu truly was an audacious one, a fact that both chafed and amused him in equal measure. Tapping a foot, Gilgamesh picked several more grapes from the tray of fruit one of the servants had brought along with his wine. His stomach grumbled in protest, the contents too paltry to be considered an actual meal, but Gilgamesh found he had even less patience for the pageantry breakfast would entail. There would be time enough for that later. A feast worthy of the king’s triumph over his new acquaintance deserved more pomp than the short notice an hour could provide.

“See that we have the finest and freshest breads available for the feast tonight as well,” Gilgamesh directed the maiden marking preparation notes into the soft clay of her tablet. 

Esina was her name, though Gilgamesh often feigned an indifferent lack of recollection for it. She was capable regarding her duties, though not as exceptional as others in his service. 

Reaching for an apple this time, Gilgamesh remarked again, loudly and without curbing his displeasure, that his guest was not present. A maid had already scurried off to retrieve Enkidu, but the remaining servants in the room flinched and exchanged nervous glances while Gilgamesh bit into his apple. In hushed tones, Esina directed a couple of others for feast preparations while another maiden carefully laid out a selection of robes and accessories, each of which was elaborate and richly decorated, though still duller than the king’s own attire. In the corner, amidst the dismantled golden pieces of Gilgamesh’s armor, yet another servant sat on a mat, polishing the metal until there was no indication it had recently seen battle. Including the two guards posted at the entrance to the foyer, seven others were present and bustling with duties in the wide room with Gilgamesh. 

And each of them carefully maintained a set distance from him.

“My axe. Has it been completed?”

The man polishing the king’s armor started at that, as though it less a question and more a whip crack. “Y-yes! I received word this morning of its completion.”

“And yet you did not think it pertinent to inform me?”

The man’s voice broke several octaves higher, his forehead shamelessly hitting the stone in an apologetic bow. “Forgive me, Your Majesty!”

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed sharply, two constricted slits of disdain and disgust. “Your apologies do not interest me, mongrel! If even a single scratch mars my armor once you are finished, I will cast your worthless body into the streets!” 

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The man’s nose all but touched the gold plating of the king’s armor as he continued polishing with renewed fervor, sweat beading on his brow.

A tense silence followed, each servant making a show of ignorance to the man’s predicament. 

None dared defy the king.

Scoffing, Gilgamesh poured yet another cup of wine, this vintage one of his favorites. He swallowed his ire along with a mouthful of drink, savoring the length and depth of it. Every taste tempered his mood. Today should be spent in celebration, after all.

Were it any other day, Gilgamesh would have lounged in the bath, washing and soaking in scented oils for well over an hour rather than haphazardly scrubbing off the residue of his fight and quickly dressing. In his hurry, he had nearly forgotten to brush back his hair until it resembled a golden flame, as was his preference. A normal day would consist only of tedious affairs and mundane complaints, but not today.

Today Gilgamesh would introduce Enkidu to every glorious aspect of his city. 

And thus his subjects would also witness the person to whom Gilgamesh had triumphed--which brought up the matter of attire. Anyone accompanying the king could not be permitted to wear the borrowed robe of a temple prostitute, now tattered to rags after a fight. Several different outfits had been laid out to the side for Enkidu to choose from, though it was difficult for Gilgamesh to judge which clothes would best suit his new acquaintance when nightfall and grit had obscured the view. A smirk threatened to expose his teeth as he recalled the fight which lasted from dusk ‘til dawn. A normal man would have collapsed soon after from such an exhaustive ordeal, but Gilgamesh was far from an ordinary man.

He was, however, a very irritable one.

About to bark at a second servant to go see where the first had disappeared to, a commotion outside of the doorway caught his attention. The two guards posted at the entryway had crossed their spears to block entrance, only to have their wrists wrenched aside with such fluid grace it seemed almost a dance if not for the guards crying out in pain.

Enkidu stepped over the threshold by the kneeling guards, wearing that same pleasant smile. And nothing else. 

Damp, mossy green hair draped heavy over Enkidu’s slim shoulders and down the curve of their backside, dripping coils reaching past the back of their knees. Curious and serene, Enkidu scanned the room until their emerald eyes met his, sparking with eager recognition. They padded over to Gilgamesh, the servants parting quickly before them after that display of strength with the guards. All morning the king’s subjects had carefully skirted around him, leaving his personal space undisturbed, that is, until Enkidu waded straight into it, stopping just short of brushing against the shore of Gilgamesh’s robes. They filled his vision until the edges shimmered iridescent, sunlight catching in the beads of water clinging to them. Wet strands lapped the nape of their neck and edge of their jaw, framing their lovely face with wild flyaways. 

It would be a simple matter to pull them close, to feel the dampness on their skin and brush back the untamed hair to better view and appraise those large gemlike green eyes. With considerable restraint, he refrained from doing so, though Gilgamesh’s eyes wandered where his hands did not, down their lithe frame to the hollow of their collar bone pooling with water. Droplets kissed skin flushed from the bath, scrubbed pink and clean. Bruises that should still be prominent from their fight had already faded as though days old, only a faint reminder on their chest and arms of the night before. Gilgamesh followed the meandering trails of water down their torso to their narrow hips.

And then stopped.

‘Clay,’ Enkidu had said. At the time Gilgamesh had paid it no mind. All humans originate from clay, after all--mud, mixed with the blood of a slain god. All humans traced their lineage to such primordial beings, however, in the case of Enkidu it seemed less a matter of lineage and more so they  _ were _ a primordial being in its purest, most malleable form.

Enkidu’s abdomen dipped and curved downwards to the juncture between their legs, smooth and featureless, possessing neither of the sexes. A river stone worn away by the current. It should have been obvious in hindsight. They possessed a voice that hummed a breath between alto and tenor, a slighter build that could mistake them as male or female. The embodiment of both the strength to match his own and a beauty surpassing any priestess of Ishtar’s. Gilgamesh had assumed them male by their power and battle prowess but--

Enkidu blurred the very concept of gender.

Yet another unique facet held by this precious jewel now in his possession.

“Enkidu?” 

“Mm?” They tilted their head, shaking loose a few more droplets to the stone floor.

Picking his words with the same care he would demand of those handling the most delicate of his treasures, Gilgamesh probed, “I thought it mere exaggeration on your part, but are you truly able to alter your form?”

“Yes.” Another heavy droplet fell with a barely audible plop. Enkidu blinked, seemingly recalling their earlier conversation regarding his treasury. “Oh! Did you have something particular in mind?”

Gilgamesh did not stifle his snort, though Enkidu seemed unbothered regardless. He waved the question away with a smirk, not losing sight of the matter at hand. “Your eagerness pleases me, Enkidu, but nevermind that now. As my ‘treasure’ it is only natural I would wish to know more about you, so, indulge my curiosity. To what extent do your transformational abilities encompass? What limitations are there?”

What the king had presumed an innocuous enough question lit Enkidu’s smile like the first blinding glimpse of sun at daybreak, pouring over walls and washing over Gilgamesh. A sight even brighter and more satisfying than the Gates of Babylon.

“I am able to imitate the appearance and functions of most things, animate or otherwise, provided I have adequate energy and concentration. Smaller things are easier, as larger ones would require more clay. In theory, I could even regenerate a crushed heart if I possessed the mana for it.” 

Fascinating. That explained their bruises then, or lack thereof.

As they spoke, Enkidu combed their fingers through a clump of drying green hair, catching on a knot. “The imitations are never perfect, however. There will always be telltale defects in my appearance.”

Perhaps it was rude, crass even, but to fully understand them demanded Gilgamesh be blunt, so he gestured to the clean slate below Enkidu’s navel. “Such as this?”

They laughed without even a drop of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. “Oh, that? I simply don’t have a particular preference for either.”

No preference.  _ That _ was all? 

Enkidu truly was amusing.

Laughter split the quiet unease in the chamber, Gilgamesh shaking his head and grinning at his guest. The servants that had all but frozen as soon as Enkidu had entered, relaxed a fraction, exhaling held breaths and sighs of relief at the king’s mirth. That’s right. There was an audience to deal with. The initial veil of intrigue Enkidu’s entrance had laid upon Gilgamesh pulled back, making him acutely aware of the gazes on both himself and his new companion, the latter of which stoked his irritation anew. 

“Yet I see you have a preference for dripping on my floor,” Gilgamesh complained with a loud sigh, though by now Enkidu was almost entirely dry save for their long curtain of hair.

“I heard you were getting impatient waiting for me.”

What remained of Gilgamesh’s patience bristled. He had to stave off the impulse to backstep and widen the distance between the two. Enkidu was bold and lacked the art of subtlety, spouting off such nonsense with ease. No other would dare approach him so casually, not even a lover who knew his intimate pleasures. But a king does not retreat, even if Enkidu was correct. 

“ _ Where is-- _ ah, Siduri.” 

Cheeks flushed behind the sheer of her veil, Siduri entered and immediately targeted Enkidu, towel opened wide as though preparing to tease a bull, or wrangle an uncooperative toddler. Following his gaze, Enkidu barely had time to turn towards the doorway before Siduri flung the towel over Enkidu’s head, netting them lower and aggressively drying their hair. 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I will have Enkidu presentable shortly,” Siduri huffed, toweling off the remnants of their bath.

Beneath the towel a muffled chuckle escaped.

“See that you do. Lest they cause another inconvenient commotion.” Gilgamesh concealed his smirk with another bite into his apple. The morning was becoming just as lively as the previous night, and it had been some time since he had enjoyed himself so. He surveyed his attendants and the progress of each one’s task, all of which seemed eager to finish. All except one. The man polishing Gilgamesh’s armor continued to stare at Enkidu, and Gilgamesh did not approve of where his eyes lingered. “Cease your gawking at once, mongrel, or I will have your eyes gouged out for coveting my ‘treasure.’” 

The man’s eyes snapped away immediately. “P-please forgive me! I did not mean to offend him!”

A meager apology would not placate Gilgamesh’s ire a second time. Though it was daylight outside, the room darkened from the oncoming storm, shadowed in the brilliance of the golden pool materializing before the man’s face. A blade did not emerge from the Gate of Babylon, but the king’s voice, low and deadly, cut even deeper. “Are you deaf as well as inept?  _ They _ . And you have offended  _ me _ . Crawl back to the filthy streets that birthed you and get out of my sight before I cut you down like the useless refuse you are.”

Rigid, the man fixed his eyes to the floor, wide with terror. He knew better than to look upon the king if he wanted to keep his life. Lip trembling but clamped shut to stifle any whimpers, the servant set down the armor piece in his hand and shuffled, stumbling from the room. The moment the man vanished from view, the golden pool blinked out of existence, returning the room to its natural light.

A disheveled Enkidu glanced curiously between the now empty doorway and Gilgamesh, head tugging gently backwards while Siduri yanked a brush through the tangled chaos of green. “Didn’t you use all of--”

Gilgamesh took the remainder of his apple and inserted it between Enkidu’s teeth, smothering the rest of their sentence. “Were you not hungry? Eat.”

Hunger won out against their need to divulge Gilgamesh’s empty treasury to the servants present and Enkidu chewed thoughtfully on the apple, finally noticing the tray of fruit on the table, which they eagerly padded over to, towing Siduri behind them as she worked at a particularly stubborn knot.

While Enkidu devoured the plate of fruit, Gilgamesh sauntered over to the clothes that had been laid out, occasionally glancing Enkidu’s way to judge which would suit them most and found it more so a matter of deciding what  _ didn’t _ suit them. Every item of clothing complemented some aspect of them, whether it the color of their hair and eyes, their complexion, or the shape of their frame. And if they had no preference, a vault of fashion possibilities awaited them. Gilgamesh sent the maid originally tasked with clothing retrieval away for more feminine styles, which she promptly returned with by the armful, laying out each one for display. 

With some convincing, Enkidu parted from the tray of fruit to join Gilgamesh by the clothes. Siduri, who had finally finished taming the lengthy mane of Enkidu’s hair, joined the other maid, holding up articles of clothing and accessories to Enkidu. Leaving them in capable hands, Gilgamesh discussed what details remained for the feast later that night before sending Esina off with the other attendants. 

Idling a moment, Gilgamesh leaned against the window, overlooking the network of buildings and roads within his city, each a piece to a greater whole. None were superfluous and all had a role to play. Even the blundering fool polishing the king’s armor had value, however little it may be. All that remained would be to decide what role his newest piece would play, be they another brick in Uruk’s wall or the cornerstone of his city. The shuffling of fabric and murmuring opinions ceased behind him, signaling the supposed end of Enkidu’s dressing. Gilgamesh turned to look upon the handiwork of his servants, and frowned.

Siduri had betrayed his trust.

Enkidu’s lithe frame, their delicate collarbones, toned muscle, fair limbs--every facet of this lovely gem exposed previously was now swallowed by the billowing fabric of a white robe, hidden away beneath generous swaths of cloth. If the robe itself was not insult enough their legs were likewise covered, only allowing a glimpse of their feet to peek from the hem of white pants visible beneath the robe. What had been an oasis of bare skin evaporated in the desert heat, leaving the king thirsting for more than the small opening below their collarbone could quench. From their wrists to their ankles, everything was covered in the selfsame austere white. To hide such beauty was an affront.

“The finest clothes and accessories my kingdom has to offer, and you choose to wear  _ that _ ?” The king stared in disbelief, mystified by the very existence of such plain attire among the selection. 

“This one was the most comfortable,” Enkidu answered simply. 

Providing an unprompted demonstration, they spread their arms wide and half-twirled, clearly enjoying the feel of the fabric as it billowed around them. The wide sleeves of the robe offered Gilgamesh a glimpse of their torso beneath, which marginally curbed his displeasure. He was loathe to admit it, but even such simple attire suited them, too. The arc of fabric following Enkidu only added to their graceful charm--every movement exaggerated, every breath of wind teasing at their clothes and hair. Even their eyes seemed more vibrant by comparison.

He sighed in resignation. 

“Well, if you are so set on the attire, I suppose it cannot be helped. However, as king I will demand you at least don an accessory of some kind. You will not be mistaken for a pauper in my presence.”

Siduri and the other maid exchanged glances before wordlessly sifting through the selection at hand, but Gilgamesh knew it in vain. His servants would not find one suiting his taste. None of the elaborate gold bangles, jeweled pendants, or intricate earrings--beautiful and finely crafted, but otherwise obtrusive--would complement Enkidu’s overly simple attire. At every turn they had surprised him, and so an adornment most suitable to match them would be equally unorthodox. Scanning the room for inspiration, Gilgamesh settled on the pieces of his armor, separated and abandoned on the floor, but newly polished. Enkidu was a warrior, after all, deserving something that represented their strength as well as their beauty. 

Between the red cloth and golden plates trimmed with lapis lazuli, a simple leather strap coiled neatly around a gold pendant. The piece served little purpose, wrapping around Gilgamesh’s armor at the waist to provide a flair of aesthetic rather than actual function. The leather was worn from use, but adjustable, still retaining its original black color. Light gleamed humbly on the pendant, its shape resembling that of a simple pendulum or the tip of a lance, and Gilgamesh was reminded of the blade tipped chains Enkidu fought him with. A soft noise of triumph hummed at the back of his throat and Gilgamesh scooped up the black cord, bouncing the pendant into his palm and savoring the satisfying weight and cool texture of the metal.

“Yes. This will do nicely.” Gilgamesh grinned and beckoned Enkidu towards him. They obliged and blinked curiously as the king readjusted the strap before bestowing the token to hang loosely around their neck. The makeshift necklace dangled past even the hem of their robe, accentuating the sway of their movements just as their hair and robe did, loose and unfettered. “Do not waste my generosity.” 

Enkidu cradled the golden pendant, cupping it in their palms and eyeing it with awe. “I will cherish it. Thank you, King Gilgamesh.”

When they smiled up at him, he felt time cease for a breath, as it had when they smiled at the base of the ziggurat. In that brief moment, Gilgamesh would have opened the entirety of his treasury for Enkidu, if it meant they would continue smiling like that. 

He took one of their hands, intertwining his fingers with theirs and said, “Now come. My city awaits.”

The tour through the city was a leisurely one. This time when something caught Enkidu’s eye, Gilgamesh did not snap at them to hurry, but indulged their curiosity and awe with a rare patience. Together the pair meandered the streets, all while throngs of citizens watched in wonder. To the onlookers, the king proudly declared Enkidu a treasure he claimed from the previous night’s fight, to the delighted cheers of his people herding closer to see his new companion. When the crowds dispersed, Gilgamesh provided commentary while they walked, explaining the trade and lifestyles of the varying homes and shops, explaining the purpose of each one and how it fit into the greater whole of Uruk. He led Enkidu to each common area and structure of significance, watching with amusement as they admired each. And when the sun’s heat became too much, the two sought refuge beneath the shade of the many gardens throughout the city. The journey took the greater part of the day, so that by the time Gilgamesh led them up a tall set of stairs to walk along the ramparts of Uruk’s outer wall, the sun had begun it’s descent towards the horizon, casting the bricks in copper light.

Up here only the occasional soldier patrolled, allowing a brief respite from the noisy sea of citizenry below. Here the only sound was the gentle flap of fabric, the warm breeze teasing at their robes and his. Enkidu brushed flyaway strands of green from their face, looking out over the expanse of agricultural land beyond the city walls to the clusters of buildings and people on the other, the divide of the urban and rural. Gilgamesh leaned against the ledge and observed them, casting only a cursory glance behind him at the fields, his main interest lying within the city itself. 

“Well? What do you think, Enkidu? Uruk is quite impressive, is it not?”

At his question, the levee holding back the deluge of excitement and awe that had accumulated throughout the day burst. “There are so many humans living together in one place! And every building is tall and sturdy! Uruk is brimming with life and color and sound. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Nor will you after.” Gilgamesh grinned, pleased to be drenched in praise. He pointed out the districts dedicated to Ishtar and Anu, the new sections building and expanding on the old, explaining the city’s history before even Gilgamesh’s lifetime. Of two settlements joining as one. “Uruk is unlike anywhere else in Sumer and was built entirely by human hands. We are not mere farmers and fishers, nor one of the squabbling nomadic tribes. We are a city. The first of its kind. The wall alone is nearly six miles long, with almost 50,000 people residing within.”

He allowed himself a pause to cross his arms, donning a proud smirk and a mantle of sunlight behind him as he looked down from the wall. “A true marvel in this world. Uruk will endure long after its people are gone.” 

“I did not realize a city was defined by its buildings, rather than its people.” Enkidu approached the edge, peering down at some children playing below.

He frowned. Pushing off the wall, Gilgamesh extended a hand palm up to the ziggurat, balancing it in his grasp. Sidling over to peer at his empty palm, Enkidu glanced towards the structure visible clearly even at this distance. “One does not exist without the other, Enkidu. A ‘people’ and their architecture are often one in the same, not unlike the ziggurat at Uruk’s heart. Our civilization, like the terraced palace, forms a hierarchy. The laborers form the base, numerous and lowly, but the foundation of all else. Next is the craftsmen and merchants, the administrators, the priests and priestesses, with the king at its head. And I oversee it all.”

"Alone?"

Gilgamesh balked. Alone? What an absurd notion. The entirety of his life had been spent in the presence of others, looking to him for guidance ever since he was a boy. Calling upon him, pleading to him, demanding his protection. Amidst thousands of people, managing to be alone required greater efforts than not. 

Although, the divide between monarch and subjects was vast indeed, and the nuance distinguishing alone from lonely could be just as divisive as Uruk’s wall. 

Had Enkidu sensed this? Or did they conform to the belief the two were interchangeable? 

The thought was even more ridiculous than their question. Of course he was not lonely. The king would vehemently deny such an accusation, even when news of a being rumored to rival his own strength had flooded him with such violent anticipation that it nearly inundated his stormy heart.

“No,” Gilgamesh snapped as Enkidu skimmed their fingers over a small crack in the wall. “But a king leads, guiding his people toward the future he desires. Such a task requires a certain distance be maintained.”

They stopped, fingernails curled into the crevice between the bricks. “What about the individuals crushed by the king’s actions. Does a hierarchy not crumble if the base is not maintained?”

Gilgamesh glared, eyes narrowed to venomous slits. The edge of his good humor eroded in the wind of Enkidu’s words. “Then it is fortunate for them that their king is a proficient architect. Who do you think designed this magnificent wall for their protection? ‘ _ People _ ’ are short-lived and short-sighted. The fools would waste every grain they have and leave nothing for the drought. A king sees past their petty needs, but I do not expect  _ you _ to understand.”

“No, I don’t,” Enkidu said softly, yielding to his anger with a smile. “But I will keep trying.” 

The tone of their admission was too gentle for Gilgamesh to find purchase, his irritation seemed to affect them little more than a summer breeze swaying tall grass. For the second time in one day, he found himself speechless by their sincerity. Any retort in his possession slipped away faster than sand through a sieve, crumbling beneath his grasp with each attempt. 

While he struggled to regain his bearings, Enkidu had moved on. “King Gilgamesh?”

Impatient, he neglected to temper the edge in his voice. “ _ What _ ?”

“Where do I fit into your hierarchy?”

The question had remained at the back of his own mind since this morning, with no clear answer in sight. “That remains to be seen.”

They paused, tilting their head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Once I have fully appraised you, I will know how best to use my newest ‘treasure.’ For now you needn’t concern yourself.” Waving them to follow, Gilgamesh made for the nearest set of stairs down from the wall. “Come, we have one more stop for the day.”

Ishtar and Anu were not the only deities possessing temples built to honor and house them within Uruk. Gilgamesh led Enkidu to a smaller, more humble temple tucked away from the main thoroughfare, set apart from the plain buildings around it by a modest garden and blue painted brick with less elaborate engravings. Only a single attendant bowed as the king and his companion entered. Inside the presence was unmistakable. Enkidu tensed beside him and Gilgamesh appreciated their acute awareness of the change in atmosphere, subtle enough to merely raise the hair on the back of most mortals' necks. Only a god or goddess exuded such divine energy. Even those that had never laid eyes upon the goddess within would come to recognize her intuitively. Though she was not the city’s patron deity, this goddess was no less respected and no less revered by its people for her wisdom. Ninsun--the lady of the wild cows, consort to Lugalbanda.

And Gilgamesh’s mother.

The air was thick with incense mixing with the scent of tamarisk and soapwort. Ninsun lounged upon a couch on her dais, hidden from the day’s heat and draped over cushions while a handful of lesser gods and goddesses attended to her needs, a few humans among them. Rich, embroidered fabric wrapped around her legs and generously accentuated the curves men so admired of her before loosely hanging from her shoulders. Bright jeweled pendants, polished gold bangles, and intricate rings adorned her with every courtesy a goddess like Ninsun commanded. An impossibly long curtain of hair, even longer than Enkidu’s, spilled around her in still pools, the delicate gold horns of a tiara parting the strands away from her face. But by far her most notable feature was one she shared with her son, eyes cut as though from rubies and glowing in the dimming light. The pupils which normally narrowed to slits widened with affection as Gilgamesh entered. 

“Gilgamesh, my son, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?” The playful lilt in her voice belied the attentive snap of her attention to Enkidu at his side, a knowing smile creeping across her lips, gaze benevolently predatory. 

Unlike a certain other goddess, Ninsun was widely known for her wisdom and insight, with many coming to her for counsel in one matter or another. On more than one occasion even Gilgamesh would seek her out when he needed assistance, particularly with dream interpreta--

_ Oh no. _

He immediately regretted bringing Enkidu to his mother. 

“And who is this?” The question struck with the inescapable speed of a viper. Ninsun propped her head on her hand, fingers that had never toiled a day in her life did little to suppress her smug smile.

This was a mistake. Every familial instinct in his possession demanded a swift exit, from the prickle at the back of his neck to the flush of color threatening his cheeks.

“My tre--” In his haste to answer, the title slipped from his lips before he could reclaim them. A full day spent ironically referring to Enkidu as his treasure became Gilgamesh’s inevitable downfall. Not even clearing his throat would salvage this misstep, the best he could manage was damage control. “My friend, Enkidu.”

The tension Enkidu had been carrying in their shoulders since they entered released, their expression shining in his peripheral. A fact he did not comment on, but did not go unnoticed, by neither Gilgamesh nor Ninsun’s keen gaze.

Wholly unconvinced, Ninsun’s smile only sharpened, though her voice remained the epitome of innocence as she asked, “Oh? Your ‘ _ friend _ ?’”

What remained of his composure collapsed beneath the full weight of her implication, a blush fiercer than the overflowing Euphrates flooded Gilgamesh’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. Gods and goddesses--his mother included--he internally cursed. This was the true power a mother held over her child and it was not one to be taken lightly. Never in his life had he been so utterly embarrassed.

“ _ Yes _ . And now we’re leaving.” Gilgamesh’s first instinct was to grab Enkidu by the hand to flee, but he wrestled with that urge before successfully pinning it down, turning to leave with his arms firmly crossed.

“So soon,” Ninsun asked, sickeningly sweet. “At least allow me to look upon them.”

Unaware of the ongoing battle of wits around them, Enkidu blinked, swiveling hesitantly between Gilgamesh and Ninsun.

It was a trap. One that Gilgamesh could not avoid regardless of whether he chose to oblige his mother or dismiss her request outright. While he was not keen on allowing an opening for his mother to embarrass him further and had every intention of making a swift exit, such an action would likely give his mother a misplaced sense of triumph at an apparent retreat. So he stopped. And he half turned back to Ninsun, leaning towards the doorway to indicate he had no intention of staying long. 

Teeth all but clenched, he hissed, “Fine. Be quick.”

Ninsun slipped from the comfort of her seat and padded towards Enkidu, a curtain of hair and fabric trailing behind her. She cupped their face in her palms and Gilgamesh had to stifle a noise of protest at the back of his throat. His mother tilted Enkidu’s face gently, then her fingers moved to comb through silky strands of green, and then to Enkidu’s hands, feeling their strength against her own. Each touch was prodding and testing, as though they were a fruit to assess for ripeness at a stall in the markets, and Gilgamesh the nervous merchant trying to conceal his fretting. All the while Enkidu blinked curiously, utterly compliant and following Ninsun’s hands as she poked and nudged them. 

“Aruru did fine work when she made you, Enkidu.”

Despite having no reason to, pride at hearing his mother’s approval swelled within Gilgamesh, smirking and chest puffed. Though they were goddess made, that they were now one of his possessions meant he would delight in their praise as well. 

She paused, a hand peeling the leather strap of their necklace to view more closely and Gilgmesh stiffened. “This is…”

“A gift,” Enkidu chirped.

“ _ Is it now? _ ” Though the question was meant for Enkidu, the goddess’ gaze fixed unwaveringly on Gilgamesh, who pretended not to notice. Ninsun snaked around behind Enkidu, resting her chin on their shoulder and smiling at her son. The mischievous glint in her eye had not dissipated. “Enjoy your friend, Gilgamesh. Do visit me again soon.”

He made an indistinct noise of displeasure and turned away, muttering he could if she ceased her hands-on inspection. With a hearty laugh, Ninsun nudged Enkidu towards her son, amused and satisfied. Gilgamesh bid his mother farewell before resuming his hasty exit, glad to be away from her gratuitous insinuations. 

Throwing a glance back at the temple disappearing around a corner behind them, Enkidu curiously touched their cheeks, mirroring the examination by Ninsun. 

“Gilgamesh?”

He nearly tripped. Only one person could so casually say his name without the title of king, and  _ only _ because she bore him into this world. And yet, hearing the soft timbre of their voice call to him was not… wholly unpleasant. There was still an annoyed edge to his voice, though. “What?”

“I am your friend,” Enkidu asked, cheeks pinched ridiculously between their thumb and forefinger.

A friend. While the remark had been made offhandedly to cover an error, the concept was not abhorrent. In the soft orange glow of sunset, Gilgamesh gently pinched their other cheek in recompense.

“Do not let that go to your head.” 

Each day was like a festival in Uruk, and this day was no exception. The foundation had been set, all that remained was for the king to enjoy the festivities come nightfall. The sun had long since set but the streets were still aglow with light, the town square at the ziggurat’s base blazing with a merry bonfire. People from every age and every walk of life within the city enjoyed food and laughed together. The celebration outdoors was only a fraction of the feast enjoyed by the king and his newfound friend. 

In the palace, the room from before had been rearranged appropriately to host Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s meal. Cool night air from the wide windows teased the flames of the torches illuminating the room, flickering the image of the lion mural. A low table and plush cushions for seating now filled the center of the room. The king’s table was heavy laden with food. Cooked meats, lamb and beef, dripping with fat and spices, fresh bread with fluffy interiors and golden brown crusts, ripened fruit with just the right balance of tart sweetness, butter cakes baked to perfection and cut into even slices, and of course a large variety of wine and ales--all belonged to the king to share with whom he pleased. Gilgamesh seated himself on a cushion at the head of the table and he invited Enkidu to sit beside him. The servants flowed with the wine, ensuring the pair’s cups always remained full and that every emptied dish was quickly replaced with a new one.

Gilgamesh took great pleasure in watching Enkidu eat, the way their eyes lit up with every new taste. The constant roll of their long sleeves as they reached across the table for food, eating at almost a frantic pace, not in the way a pauper gorges himself from starvation but with an unfettered excitement to try everything. Witnessing them experience humanity firsthand amused the king and so he only mildly teased them about choking or making themself sick, but his warnings did nothing to discourage Enkidu. By the third or fourth plate, Enkidu’s fervor slowed, allowing more room for conversation while they ate. And after seven cups of wine Enkidu’s cheeks reddened, their smile even broader in their drunken state. His own plate of food half forgotten, Gilgamesh propped his chin in his palm, edging closer to his friend. 

The two of them discussed Uruk in general, commented on the splendid food and drink, and recalled the thrilling fight from the night before. Gilgamesh asked Enkidu about the events leading up to their arrival in his city and Enkidu happily obliged, from how they had roamed the wilds with herds of animals to aiding a shepherd in defending his flock from beasts, and of course, about their encounter with Shamhat, the temple prostitute. The first woman--the first  _ human _ \--Enkidu had ever encountered, and the one who subsequently introduced them to humanity in the most intimate manner, through sexual intercourse. 

“ _ For seven days _ ? Truly?” Gilgamesh threw his head back and laughed. “A most impressive feat. One that beggars belief.”

Shame and embarrassment did not color their expression. Enkidu’s face flushed only from the wine, an all too wide smile plastered on their expression. “An exaggeration. While it is true we spent seven consecutive days together, neither of us possess that kind of stamina.”

“A pity.” Gilgamesh took another drink, tracing the slope of their back with his eyes, curious how a self-proclaimed weapon would behave amidst throes of passion. “How did you spend those days then?”

Enkidu swayed, gripping the table for balance. They chuckled. “Doing little else.”

A smirk tugged at Gilgamesh’s lips. “I’m sure it pleased Shamhat to offer her arts in honor of Ishtar. And then what?”

Enkidu faltered. “After… my companions--the animals--scattered, when I came near. They no longer acknowledged me as one of their own and I did not have the strength to pursue them.”

Gilgamesh paused, drink hovering against his lips. Instead he swirled the wine in his cup before peering over its edge at them. “There was a hunter. He was quite the nuisance, complaining loudly of a primordial beast destroying his traps and freeing the animals caught within them.”

They blinked, looking up at him as the realization slowly dawned in their alcohol addled mind.

“The hunter begged and pleaded for his king to aid him in his plight with this beast. After all, a hunter cannot make a livelihood without their catch. In his benevolent wisdom, the king ordered the hunter to take a temple prostitute with him to this primordial being, that she may seduce the creature, civilize it, thereby causing the animals who they once aided to flee from their presence.” The cup ceased its movement, red liquid still sloshing gently within as Gilgamesh set it down upon the table. He recalled their anger the previous night, the way his blood boiled in response to their challenge. Even if it meant the two came to blows once more, violence proved amusing in its own right and Gilgamesh did not shy from conflict for the sake of others. “Knowing this, Enkidu, would you be angry with the one who gave that order?”

A line creased between their brows. Enkidu’s eyes fell to their cup, but troubled as they seemed to be with this new information, their smile never wavered. After thinking it over thoroughly, they answered, “No, because I obtained a friend in exchange.”

Warmth apart from the wine settling in his stomach swelled within Gilgamesh’s chest, along with something else. Something disdainful.

Guilt.

He quashed that sentiment immediately. Utter nonsense. A king does not regret. That was only a luxury for fools. Had he not played his part, Enkidu would still be roaming the wilds, untamed and beastial, rather than sharing a meal beside him. Gilgamesh could not harbor any more remorse for his own actions as Enkidu could for seeking him out to try and kill the king. Whatever the pair’s original intentions were, both of their actions were the inevitable result that led the two to each other, after all.

“However,” Enkidu’s voice pulled his attention back to the present. “I admit I am at a loss what a friend’s purpose is. Or what you would have me do. You have enlisted me as your treasure, but never told me what form I should take.”

Again with this? For them to ask so often indicated the lack of direction disquieted their otherwise amenable behavior. In some sense, Gilgamesh had been left wondering what precisely to do with his newfound companion as well. Simply assigning them tasks as another mere vassal would waste the wealth of potential they seemed to possess. No other could equal Gilgamesh in battle, but fighting would not be the only task to fill the king’s time. Most days the king just did whatever he pleased. 

Gilgamesh leaned away from the table, golden bangles clinking softly as he regarded this stranger to humanity beside him. “Well, what do you  _ want _ to do?”

The question only seemed to confuse them more. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I’m a tool to be used. Tools do not want for anything. And I failed the task that was given to me.”

The absurdity of their answer elicited a laugh, but when they merely watched him, blinking curiously, it was Gilgamesh’s turn to knit his brow. Another sip of wine and the king shifted closer, leaning lazily against his elbow propped on the table. 

“All things have desires, Enkidu. Even a living weapon created by the gods.”

They opened their mouth to protest but he silenced them with a raise of his hand. 

“Listen well, Enkidu. When you challenged me last night, you barred my entry to a bride’s bedchamber? Why?”

“The gods sent me to destroy you,” they repeated.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You are quite adamant for a tool--a weapon--with no will of your own...”

Enkidu tilted their head, but nodded, puzzled by the king’s exasperation.

“If that were truly the case and you were doing what the gods bid only, the timing of our battle would not have mattered, correct? Your only purpose would have been to challenge and defeat me, whether it after the wedding, a week from then, or even a year from now. But, you did not, and moreover, rather than merely challenge me, you blocked me entry, preventing me from taking the girl. Tell me, why was that?”

Their brow furrowed in thought and they contemplated their drink for some time before admitting, “I… am not sure.”

There, a stray thread in their logic loosened, threatening to unravel. A smirk tugged at Gilgamesh’s lips. He leaned in, tipping his winecup towards Enkidu. “You made a  _ choice _ to do so, an audacious one at that, to fight me then and thereby prevent my right to the bride’s virginity. And a choice suggests desires. You desired it, perhaps out of some foolish notion of protecting the girl’s dignity or some other form of righteous indignation, whatever the cause is insignificant. What matters is that a mere tool would not have made that choice on their own.”

For a while they remained silent, he could see them carefully turning over his every word, reflecting on their actions from the previous night. Gilgamesh took another sip of wine, smirking smugly against the lip of the cup as he observed their reaction. 

“And what of your face?” He continued on when they remained puzzled by his question. “You are capable of altering your form, yes? It is safe to assume you chose your current appearance  _ after _ the hunter pleaded his case to me rather than before, otherwise the fool would have tried seducing you himself.”

Enkidu leaned back, carefully keeping hold of the table and staring thoughtfully at their plate.

“Lastly, though you failed in the task given to you by the gods, you have remained here in Uruk, despite having no discernible reason to. You are no prisoner. I doubt even I could hold you here indefinitely if it were against your will.” Gilgamesh rested his cheek in his palm, expression softened by the wine. The smile he wore was adjacent to fond. “Have you found your answer, Enkidu? Why do you suppose you have chosen to do all of those things?”

The answer came surprisingly quickly given their earlier confusion, and Gilgamesh nearly beamed when they answered. 

“Because I wanted to.”

“Because you wanted to,” Gilgamesh echoed fondly, their answer pleasing him greatly.

The cloud of confusion that had been hanging over them cleared, and their smile brightened in the torchlight. With one less trouble weighing on them, the two of them carried on with the feast until their plates emptied and servants carried away the remnants of dinner, leaving the pair to continue conversing alone. 

“Gilgamesh?”

Again they insisted on dropping his title. “‘King’ Gilgamesh. What is it?”

“Why do you do it? Bed the new bride before their husband?” The innocent tone of their question belied the outright anger Enkidu had expressed about the subject the previous night.

“Oh? That is an amusing question to ask.” Gilgamesh loosened the red sash he wore across his chest, the night air insufficient to cool the heat from his wine. The robe he wore shifted with the movement, slipping down his shoulder as his grin widened. “The goddess of love, war, and fertility is Uruk’s patron deity. As king and high priest of Uruk, my duties entail rituals to honor the gods, even the useless ones. What better way to honor and obtain spiritual experience for a goddess of fertility than by indulging in sexual pleasures?” 

Eyes narrowing, his voice lowered to the edge of his register, laced with a dangerous intent. “If the gods permit it, why wouldn’t I fuck whomever I like?” 

“Even though she did not consent to it,” Enkidu asked between another large mouthful of wine, voice echoing off the cup’s interior. 

This time Gilgamesh frowned, pupils thinning to vicious slits. “A king does not need permission to use his possessions; he takes what is rightfully his. Everything within my city belongs to me. Even  _ you _ . My people will obey any order, or accept the consequences of my displeasure.”

Enkidu swayed, veering towards Gilgamesh, breath thick with the scent of wine and meeting the king’s displeasure with cool determination. “Only because your people don’t have the strength to defy you.”

With that the novelty of their insubordination corroded away. Gilgamesh’s anger boiled over, voice raising. “So you would dare to defy me on their behalf, then? Perhaps you have forgotten who submitted to whom last night. I shall remind you once more with force since you insist on behaving as dense as the rocks you were--” 

The threat fell flat in the silence following a thump to the floor beside him. Gilgamesh stared down at Enkidu, giggling on their back.

Made from clay, and apparently unable to hold their wine.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Enkidu attempted to sit up only to fall beside him once more. “But I don’t think I can fight you again tonight. Unless it is on the floor.”

Drunk or not, Enkidu’s grace period had come to its abrupt end. Gilgamesh curled his fingers in the neckline of their robe and hauled them upright, his other hand grasping for the table’s edge to leverage against. When he met their gaze with the brunt of his displeasure, Gilgamesh was surprised to find their green eyes sharp and clear despite their inebriation, issuing an unspoken challenge. 

“I have endured your behavior thus far because it provided me a modicum of entertainment, but my generosity is coming to its end. I am the law and you will obey my commands while you are in my city, absolutely and without question.”

Fumbling, Enkidu’s fingers curled around his wrist. Rather than relent, a mischievous smirk peeled back to reveal their teeth. “And what if I do not want to?”

Such a graceful reversal. In a few words Enkidu had turned the verbal blow back to its wielder, just as they had during the battle the night before, leaving Gilgamesh to face down the very point of his earlier words. Enticed by the prospect of battling them again, he mirrored their grin, torchlight igniting the fire in his crimson eyes. "Oh? Already decided what it is you do and do not want? Impressive, considering you supposedly had none to begin with."

Unexpectedly, the grip on his wrist softened with their smile. "Mm. I want to stay with my friend."

Whether from alcohol or shock, the tight hold on Enkidu’s robe loosened, fabric slipping between Gilgamesh’s fingers, and they hit the floor a second time, protesting mildly. 

They were… so many things. Utterly ridiculous. Infuriating. Absurd. Strong. Beautiful. Sincere. And-- 

His friend. 

The words left their lips so casually, as though they understood any more than he did what the true breadth of its meaning was. Insurmountable barriers between himself and his people had long since separated him from any other being. Too divine to be human and too human to be a god, Gilgamesh had never found true companionship from either. The conceptual gravity of a friendship had finally sunk in, forming the fulcrum upon which he tipped over them, expression a mix of exasperation and something else. Something intangible and foreign.

The movement signaled Gilgamesh’s own limit was at hand as the room spun pleasantly, heat burning his cheeks, the taste of wine and their conversation lingering on his lips. Enkidu made no attempt to move out from under him and Gilgamesh considered them once more through the haze of alcohol and remaining satisfaction from the feast. Their cheeks remained flushed and warm with the effects of their drink. Their hands, having betrayed their grip on the table and causing the initial fall only to fail at stopping the second, folded neatly over their stomach, rising and falling gently beneath the fabric of their robe. 

“Unless you take issue with that?” Enkidu held onto their foolish smile as they looked up at him, eyelids weighing heavily with alcohol induced drowsiness.

Despite his threats, they were untroubled to be dozing off in the presence of the king, completely unguarded when his own people flinched whenever he drew near. Their trust in him was astounding, if not unfounded.

“You fool. Was I not the one who suggested it to begin with?” Gilgamesh grabbed a spare cushion and flung it at Enkidu. “Though I do recall telling you not to let it go to your head.”

Laughter erupted in the room once more and Gilgamesh signaled for servants to carry Enkidu to their quarters. Inebriated and off balance, he steadied himself against the wall to watch their slumped departure from the chamber. If nothing else, he would observe them until such a time they came to fully realize their own desires. For nothing is more fascinating than a being who is convinced they have none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh: Mother, what do my dreams mean?  
> Ninsun without even looking up: You’re gay, son.
> 
> Some sources say that Enkidu’s sexual encounter with Shamhat lasted for seven days and others say fourteen. I chose to use the length of time used in the translations I read.
> 
> Writing from Gilgamesh’s point of view was an interesting challenge considering I generally write for Enkidu or Kingu. Hopefully it was enjoyable to read!
> 
> Thank you all for the kind words. This chapter proved difficult for me to work on and I finally managed the courage to finish and post chapter 2 thanks to your lovely comments which I often reread. If you’re starved for some Gilkidu content, I also do fanart of them on tumblr/twitter at mercuryartes (there’s some Kingu stuff, too). 
> 
> Last but not least, thank you to darkangelmya and Lunaurelle for your feedback and invaluable support when I start to doubt myself.


End file.
